


blunt force trauma

by CallicoKitten



Series: put your name and blood on everyone and make the evening news [4]
Category: Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, DCU
Genre: Character Study, Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Mental Instability, Multi, Patricide, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Unhealthy Relationships, and i obsessed over it for like weeks, as that time a trash movie took it over completely, i'll definitely look back on this period of my life, jesse eisenburg's lex wormed his way into my head and wont get out, please heed the warnings guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 03:33:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6687508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallicoKitten/pseuds/CallicoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, Lex thinks. Oh. He was broken long before this. Crushed into a fine powder, easily inhaled. That's how he got this far, don't you know? How he got by. Mistaken for sugar from a distance, deadly when ingested. Do not induce vomiting; if unconscious remove the victim to fresh air. Do not allow to come in contact with skin. Avoid prolonged exposure.</p><p>If overdose is suspected call 911 immediately.</p><p>(It will be too late by then just ask Mercy. Ask Clark Kent.)</p><p>-</p><p>or, the back story no one asked for</p>
            </blockquote>





	blunt force trauma

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into English available: [blunt force trauma](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6857320) by [Riva_Y](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riva_Y/pseuds/Riva_Y)



> i really have no excuse for this.
> 
> takes place in the same 'verse as [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6580498) and [this](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6476209) but you don't need to have read either of them. all you need to know is that bruce and lex screw sometimes and it's not particularly healthy for either of them.
> 
> i completely made up everything about mercy fyi
> 
> and one last time, this fic is not happy. please, please heed the warnings.

When Lex is five, his mother dies.

His mother is a catholic, takes him to church every Sunday, makes sure he knows his bible verses, makes sure he says his prayers. She has blonde hair that curls at the edges, she has dark eyes. She always smells like old wood flooring that creaks beneath Lex's knees as he kneels and begs forgiveness for something he doesn't understand and softly of rose water.

"God will forgive you, Alexander," his mother says. His father is German but his mother is Polish, her accent is soft and musical. She sings to him the songs her mother sang to hear once upon a time in a snowy little hovel.

" _Ach, śpij, kochanie, jesli gwiazdke z nieba chcesz - dostaniesz,_ " she sings to him softly, one hand curled in his hair, rocking back and forth, rocking back and forth.

"Say your prayers, Alexander. Say your prayers."

He will think later that it is a shame he remembers her so vividly. Most boys of that age would not, he thinks. Most boys of that age would remember only snatches but Lex remembers everything.

" _Wszystkie dzieci, nawet źle,_ _pogrążone są we śnie, a ty jedna tylko nie_ ," she sings. She sits in front of a mirror, painting make-up over a black eye.

"Be good for your father, Alexander, you know what will happen if you aren't."

Her smile is wide and pearly and fake, so very fake. She has had her teeth knocked out so often she wears dentures, polished to perfection.

" _Ach, śpij, bo wlaśnie_ _, księżyc ziewa i za chwilę zaśnie_."

Lex lies awake and listens to it happen.

When he is nine he will tell someone this but for now he lies motionless under his covers. His father's house is big, Lex has a whole floor to himself. They are being very loud.

" _Say your prayers, Alexander. Say your prayers._ "

His mothers rosary beads are cool against his chest.

" _A gdy rano przyjdzie świt_ _, księzycowi będzie wstyd, ze on zasnąl, a nie ty_."

Later, his father while curl a hand across Lex's thigh and grip too tight and it will feel wrong (it has _always_ felt wrong and he will say, "We don't need her, Junior. We've never needed her."

Lex will nod because the priests have told him to always obey his father.

"Your mother ran off, son," his father says. There is liquor on his breath and his knuckles are split and raw. "I'm so sorry, Junior. I'm so sorry."

_Say your prayers, Alexander. Say your prayers. God will forgive you, Alexander. God is the only one that can judge._

Lex bows his head and prays, worries the beads in his hands, "Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name."

His mother's voice echoes back to him.

"Your mother was a special lady, son," his father says. "I'm sorry."

-

Mercy Graves levels a pistol at his head and asks, "Did you kill your father, Mr Luthor?"

Mercy is an A.R.G.U.S plant and Lex has known this for the past few months. He has only kept her alive thus far because she seems to be rather enjoying her role a little too much. Her grip on the pistol is steady, her eyes are cool.

"Oh, but you already know the answer to that," Lex sing-songs. He bounces on the soles of his feet, takes a step towards her. "The question is: what precisely are you going to do about it?"

Lex is not an idiot, far from it in fact. He is well aware of the _myriad_ of ways Mercy could end his life in this little room so far from prying eyes because she is clever. _Clever, clever, clever._ He has been expecting this but not here, not now. In that vague way he supposes most men someday expect the woman they hold nearest and dearest to them to one day aim a loaded fire arm at their heads.

Mercy though, Mercy hesitates and in that instance, Lex knows he's won.

As a general rule, Lex does not like to spend extended amounts of time around people. Mostly he finds them annoying, small minded, _inferior_ so he has learnt to read them quickly. To process and catalogue them and move along to the next potential candidate in record time. He has read Mercy's back story in the words that she chooses and doesn't, in the way that she holds herself, in the way she stiffens, for a fraction of a second, whenever a man touches her.

He has seen her and she, through illegally obtained medical records and government files presumably, as seen him. Birds of a feather. Like attracts like.

"Oh, Mercy, Mercy, Mercy _me,_ " he says. "It seems we are at a bit of an impasse here because funnily enough, it doesn't look like you _want_ to shoot me."

-

_God is all knowing, God is all seeing, God will protect you, Alexander._

Lex is on his knees again, only he is not praying.

His father is not a man of faith, after all.

-

"Did you kill your father, Lex?" a shadowed man in a white coat will ask him one day.

There are demons in his mind and they have shaved all his hair off.

His father was bald, so Lex keeps his hair long.

His father was bald, so Lex keeps his hair long.

 His _father_ was bald, so _Lex_ keeps his hair long.

Now there really is no telling which of them is sitting in the prison uniform.

(Now there really is no telling which of them is the monster.)

-

 _Say your prayers, Lex,_ his mother reminds him. _Say your prayers._

-

Lex is not at all interested in super heroes or vigilantes until Superman destroys Metropolis.

Lex stands in the wreckage of his building; one of the tallest until it came collapsed into this pile of dust and blood and twisted metal. There is a sonic boom overhead and Lex shudders beneath it. He tilts his head up to the blue of the sky - bluer against the clouds of smoke and dust that stream constantly from the wreckage and traces the path of a blue-red dot far above.

"Mr Luthor," Mercy prompts, from somewhere behind him. Her voice is cool and level, in all things, Mercy is unshakable. "The press will want to hear from you."

They are both wearing sunglasses. It strikes Lex that they look like they are here merely to survey rather than to gasp, awestruck or set their jaws in sorrow or whatever it is that wins favourable headlines these days. He reaches up and plucks them off, folds them neatly into his pocket.

After a moment, Mercy does the same.

"Tell the press we'll be supporting the rebuilding efforts in any way we can. LexCorp to the rescue! Set funds up for victims and fire fighters and anyone else who helps with the rescue efforts. Stress that it's _them_ that deserve all the praise, not rich guys like me. It's the little guys. See if you can find some fluff pieces to go with that, you know the kind."

She inclines her head, "Very good, Mr Luthor." She waits until they are back inside the limo to ask, "What are you up to, Lex?"

Lex grins at her blithely. "Oh, Mercy. You already know the answer to that."

She smirks because she does.

-

His father's first act of war was naming Lex after himself. Naming Lex _for_ himself.

Alexander Luthor jr. Junior. _Junior._

A way to let the world know that he is his father's son. His father's boy. His father's legacy.

Alexander Luthor _Junior._

There is no room for Lex in this equation. Lex, the boy, is an afterthought, an inconvenience. Lex the symbol is set to inherit his father's company, Lex the symbol is quiet and well behaved at meetings, poses for happy photos with his father at galas or on days out, Lex the symbol is a dream.

(Lex the boy wears long sleeves in the summer because he's been naughty. Lex the boy bows his head and prays desperately. Lex the boy had mother who filled his head with tales of winged beings and an all powerful man who would protect him.

Lex the boy is beginning to feel lied to.)

-

"Did you kill your father, Lex?" Bruce Wayne asks.

He tastes like champagne and very expensive cigars even though Lex knows he doesn't smoke. The cigars are just there as part of Bruce's carefully constructed facade and _oh,_ this game they're playing. It is the most fun Lex has ever had.

They are tangled together in the darkened room of someone's mansion; Bruce has Lex's wrists pinned above his head with one strong hand. If Lex lets himself, he will think of his father but Bruce is good at keeping him here and now in the present.

The question is Bruce's way of letting Lex know that he has leverage here, that if he wanted to, he could have LexCorp come crashing down about Lex's ears. It is _thrilling_ and _terrifying_ and Lex growls against Bruce's mouth.

" _Maybe._ "

Bruce slams him against a wall with more force than is necessary. Lex whines. _Yes,_ he thinks. _Yes._

-

The papers call Lex a hero, call Lex a saviour. Lex Luthor who rebuilt the city, who inspired others to get involved. Lex Luthor who cleaned up Superman's mess.

The papers call Superman a God. _The_ saviour.

_Say your prayers, Alexander. Say your prayers._

"Our Superman, who art in Metropolis, hallowed be thy name."

He taps his fingers across Jimmy Olson's full colour spread of Superman snaps and hums.

"What is your name, Superman? What is your name?"

-

"Bruce Wayne is a weakness," Mercy says, tone as brisk and short as the clacking of her heels on the tile.

"Bruce Wayne is a _distraction_ ," Lex corrects.

"I've seen the way you look at him," Mercy counters.

(Lex will carve her eyes out and feed them to her.)

"You're not looking hard enough then," he snaps.

She pauses. She considers. She retreats.

She's always been a clever girl, his Mercy.

-

"My mother didn't run away," he says it in a rush, claps a hand over his mouth when it is done, presses himself as far into the cool darkness of the confessions booth as he can.

He has not been in a church for two years. His father is not a believer.

 _There is no God, junior,_ his father thunders. _No God would allow such **abominations** to walk the earth. _

_Say your prayers,_ his mother counters. And Lex has been, bowing his head dutifully before bed each night, sliding the beads along his fingers.

"I'm sorry?" The priest on the other side says.

Lex slips out unnoticed.

-

"I'm going to kill Superman."

Mercy does not laugh. To Lex's knowledge, she has never laughed and may actually be physically incapable of it. She does, however, quirk the left corner of her mouth up in a smile, "I'd like to see you try, Mr Luthor."

 _Oh,_ she will _see._

"I misspoke," he says. "I am going to _have_ Superman killed and I know just the man for the job."

Mercy arches an eyebrow which is her way of saying, _I'm extremely interested, please tell me more._

"The Gotham Bat," Lex answers, triumphantly.

Mercy scoffs, "The Bat is a man. Superman is a God."

" _Alien_ ," Lex corrects.

Mercy inclines her head, "Alien, then. It's hardly a fair fight. All you'll end up with is a broken bat."

"I'll find a way to _make_ it a fair fight. The gladiator event of the _millennia,_ can you imagine? People would queue for _days_ to see a fight like that."

"And if it goes wrong?"

Lex shrugs, "There are always other people we could try." He is thinking of the metahuman files that he has spent so long compiling. Any one of them could be a match for superman but the bat will be by far the easiest to twist to Lex's particular needs.

Mercy nods and leaves, clacking out of the room, the door swinging shut behind her. Behind Lex is a still frame image of the Bat carrying a broken body out of a wrecked building. The image is low quality, probably snapped on a cell phone and already, it seems like it's been erased from the internet.

"Twinkle, twinkle little Bat, how I'd like you to go _splat_. High above the roofs of Gotham, when you're mine things will be _awesome._ "

-

It's _depressingly_ easy to find out Superman's secret identity. All it really takes is _looking._ Lex is honestly surprised no one has put two and two together yet.

 _The Daily Planet_ has been hounding him for an interview for months and it was not difficult to figure out the reporter's rota and ensure that Clark Kent would be the only one available to conduct it.  Clark is blandly handsome in a forgettable sort of way. He is easy and pleasant and so unapologetically dull that he begins to blur for Lex even as he sits in front of him. It is either the most convenient coincidence in the world or Clark is a genius.

"Everyone knows," Clark is saying while Lex is wondering whether he made a mistake, whether Clark really is just a pathetically boring reporter. "That you contributed heavily to the rebuilding of Metropolis after the battle but did you also not set aside funds that you would later use to buy up some of the companies most damaged in the attack?"

 _Ah,_ Lex thinks. **_There_** _you are._

There is a vicious glint in Clark's blue eyes, a challenge belayed by the soft curve of his mouth, the way he sits forward, hands just a little jittery to convey nerves, the way he glances down at his notes frequently.

Lex spreads his hands, "What can I say? We didn't think those workers deserved to lose their jobs just because of what happened. The companies we - _I_ \- bought out were those that couldn't afford to rebuild, so LexCorp stepped in. We gained more revenue, true, but countless people got to keep their jobs because of it."

Clark does not believe a single word out of Lex's mouth, he can tell. It reminds him sharply of Bruce for a minute. But he nods attentively and scribbles something down on his notepad. When the interview is over he doesn't shake Lex's hand, "Thank you for your time today, Mr Luthor."

"No, no, thank _you._ " Lex says, all smiles and ease. "It was wonderful to meet you."

"And you," Clark says. His smile is warm but his eyes are frosty.

-

( _Did you kill your father, Lex?_ Clark will not get a chance to ask.

It is a shame because Lex would answer. Lex would laugh in Clark's face and cry yes, _yes._ Like you killed yours. _Like you killed yours._

Except, that will be a lie. Clark killed his father with negligence. Lex killed his father with _intent._ )

-

 _Say your prayers, Alexander,_ his mother whispers.

"I'll take you in without breaking you," Clark Kent promises because he thinks he's won.

He thinks he's _won._

-

Bruce is the first person to see him for what he is. What he really is. Behind all the grins and the charity and too-bright eyes, Bruce sees him. Bruce knows.

Bruce has not run away from him, in fact, Bruce seems _enthralled._

"I think he wants to save you," Mercy comments and Lex laughs.

There is no saving him.

Maybe there never was.

-

"My father hits me," he says, knees drawn up to his chest. He is ten.

This is god's last chance.

There is a soft, sharp intake of breath, sucked through teeth and the priest on the other side of the booth says, "I am sorry to hear that, my child."

Lex does not ask why no one has come to save him; his father has already drilled it into him.

_No one is coming, junior. You **deserve** this._

( _Say your prayers, Alexander. God is all knowing. God will forgive you._

He wants to stomp his feet, batter his fists against the floor and howl, " _When_?")

"I - I can't wait much longer," he says to the priest. _I'm afraid he's going to kill me._

( _There is no God, Alexander. THERE IS NO GOD,_ his father yells when he learns where Lex has been.

Lex breaks his arm. Riding a bike, he tells the nurse. He's so clumsy, he really should take better care.)

-

"Tell me about your father," Clark Kent says, mildly. He does not like Lex, but he hides it well. Lex has no idea whether Clark has taken a  dislike to him merely on principle or whether there is some part of Clark's superman senses that register him as a threat.

Either way, Lex delights in watching him squirm.

It is LexCorp's twenty-fifth anniversary, everyone wants an interview so they can do a puff piece to take people's minds off the Battle of Metropolis, off the spate of gory killings in Gotham or the strange events in Central City.

"Oh, my father," Lex says, crosses his legs, brushing Clark's thigh under the table as he stretches. Clark jerks away. Lex rejoices. "Well, that is a _story._ As you know, he was born in East Germany..."

Lex has told this story so many times to so many people that it has become second nature. He adds his own little embellishments, here and there. (Leaves out the part where he killed Lex's mother, leaves out the part where he taught Lex about the many different severities of closed head injuries, or the difference between a cigarette and a cigar when pressed to skin, or that being locked in a disused fridge is only half as terrifying as lying awake in a dark bedroom, listening to the floorboards creak outside your door.) Daddy wouldn't like those stories, he thinks.

( _You have to understand,_ his mother said, when Lex was four. _Your father has been through a lot._

Lex did not understand. He was four.)

"And then there was the - ah - tragedy," Lex swallows at this part. He used to tear up but fifteen years is a long time. "I'm sorry, it's just..."

"I know that this must be difficult," Clark says. Lex has watched him do other interviews. If Lex were someone else Clark would have touched his knee or his  shoulder, offered a comforting little smile. But Clark is sitting about as far away from Lex as he can. "You were young."

"Yes," Lex agrees. "Sixteen. Seventeen when they... Well, you know the rest."

"And since your father's death, you've done incredible things."

Lex pretends to be embarrassed, "Well, I wouldn't say _incredible._ I mean, Superman, _he's_ incredible." Clark is good, there's not even the _hint_ of a reaction. "I'm just an ordinary man, trying my best to keep my father's legacy going. I wish he was here to see it."

That last part is the truth and he thinks Clark picks up on it, his steady gaze softens a bit and he looks rather guilty as he stands and inclines his head politely. "Thank you very much for your time, Mr Luthor."

"How many times must I tell you, Mr Kent? It's Lex, please. Mr Luthor is - er was - my father."

Clark has the decency to chuckle politely and Mercy gives Lex a _look_ as she shows Clark Kent out.

Yes, Lex wishes his father were here to see how far his little monster has come. He wishes daddy could watch while Lex conquered the world with lies and smiles and carefully constructed webs of deceit.

But mostly, he thinks in the end, he made it too quick. Alexander Luthor deserved a much longer, much more painful end but Lex has always been one for dramatics.

-

( _I would kill your father_ , Bruce whispers into Lex's hair one night. His voice is sleep drunk and heavy and he is possibly the only other man on earth who could go toe to toe with Lex on nightmares. _If you hadn't killed him already._

Lex has been fighting his grip, still half-asleep, half a world ago. He rakes his nails down Bruce's back and presses close, close as he can, wants to press so hard and tight that there's no distinction between them anymore. Wants to feel - wants to _feel_ -

Bruce hums against him, there's barely a rhythm to it but Lex's eyes sting and he lets himself be gentled.)

In the morning, one of them will wake before the other and leave. They will avoid each other for a month or so until Lex gets bored and lures Bruce back to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat.

( _Say your prayers, Alexander._ )

"Forgive me, Alfred," he says, on his way out the door to Bruce's manservant. There is a bite mark on Lex's pale throat, evidence of rope burn on his wrists. "For we have _sinned_."

Alfred swallows thickly. Lex has read up on Alfred's background, military, secret service. He wonders how many ways Alfred is envisioning killing him.

"Alfred," he nods, stepping out into the sun.

"Master Luthor," Alfred returns with barely concealed ire.

-

"You've cast yourself as the devil," Mercy says, reclining in the back of his office.

"The serpent, Mercy. The _serpent_ ," he giggles. "I wonder which of them is Eve."

But this is not that story, he thinks, and Mercy should know that. It doesn't matter that she doesn't, she will die tomorrow if everything goes as planned. He would like to say he's sorry but his mother raised him better than to _lie._

This is not the story of mankind's Fall, this is the story of mankind's _rise._ Of mankind throwing off the shackles of ecclesiastic guilt, of benevolent, all knowing, all seeing deities to fall back on and proving Lucifer wrong.

This is the story that ends with god cold and still in the dirt, exposed for the fraud that he is.

-

_Ding, ding, ding  ding, ding, ding, ding. Ding, ding, ding, ding._

"Say your prayers, Alexander."

Even now, he carries her with him like a chorus, her voice rising and falling as her breathes. Louder than the demon in his head, louder than the demon he bred that died as it killed a god.

_Ding, ding, ding, ding._

"Did you kill your father, Mr Luthor?" his lawyer asks.

They have used his father's cruelty to garner sympathy, have conjured up eye witness testimonies and x-rays Lex doesn't remember having done and everyone is demanding to know _why._

_Ding, ding, ding, ding._

"You've lost," Superman says, grim sneer on his face as Batman saves his mother. What a victory for Bruce, Lex thinks. What a shame for mankind.

"If man cannot kill God then the devil will do it," he spits.

_Ding, ding, ding, ding._

"You've doomed us all," someone says. A boy. Lex knows him from surveillance videos and grainy cell phone footage. "Do you have any idea what you've done?"

( _They're coming,_ he tells Bruce. _A bell has been rung, they're coming, they've heard._ )

_Ding, ding, ding, ding._

"I'm sorry," says his lawyer to someone. "My client is feeling very delicate right now. These last few months have completely shattered his mind."

Oh, Lex thinks. _Oh._ He was broken long before this. Crushed into a fine powder, easily inhaled. That's how he got this far, don't you know? How he got by. Mistaken for sugar from a distance, deadly when ingested. Do not induce vomiting; if unconscious remove the victim to fresh air. Do not allow to come in contact with skin. Avoid prolonged exposure.

If overdose is suspected call 911 immediately.

(It will be too late by then just ask Mercy. Ask Clark Kent.

Ask Alexander Luthor Sr.)

_Say your prayers, Alexander._

-

_Did you kill your father, Lex?_

_Yes. The answer is **yes.**_

This is what he remembers:

He is sixteen.

He is kneeling, but he is not praying. He does not pray anymore, not matter how much his mother pleads and begs.

There is no one coming. He will have to save himself.

There is blood on his hands and Lex knows - has known for years - the difference between blood that can be staunched with a tea towel and blood that suggests stitches and blood that speaks of ambulances and oxygen masks and _stay with us, son_ and this blood is none of those.

This blood is thick and dark and cold on Lex's palms. This blood is drying fast.

_Out, damned spot!_

His father's mouth hangs open. His eyes are swollen shut.

A fugue state, they call it. The mind shuts out what it can't handle to protect itself.

(His mind has robbed him against his will of his closure, of his revenge.

_Alas, he's mad._

_Alas, Alas!_ )

He catalogues his father's injuries. Broken bones, countless contusions, watery blood in the ear canal is a sign of brain damage, swelling and bruising across the torso to indicate blunt force trauma. Blunt force trauma.

Lex dumps the body in the ocean. He has timed the currents; if El Nino doesn't fuck things up no one will find him for at least a year.

Decomposition is sped up in water. Fish will pick him clean if nothing else.

He concocts a tale for the press, a doomed sailing expedition on a newly bought yacht. He'd told Lex not to panic if he was gone for a while and _well, you see, officer, it's been over a month and it's not like him to be out of touch for so long so..._

He holds his head high at the funeral. He gives a eulogy that leaves no one with dry eyes. His voice breaks at the right parts, he dabs at his eyes on cue and takes deep, steadying breaths.

If he had not become a tech genius, he could have so easily become an Oscar-worthy actor.

-

( _Did you kill your father, Lex? God is all knowing. Only God can judge._ )

-

"Say your prayers, Alexander," his mother whispers. "Say your prayers." She reaches to tuck a stray hair behind his ear but they shaved it all off yesterday. She withdraws her hand, lets it fall to her side.

"You've cast yourself as the devil," Mercy says. There is soot on her dress and large pieces of wood in her chest. In reality, there was not enough of her left to identify. A.R.G.U.S was probably very upset.

"You've lost," Clark Kent sneers. "I'll take you in without breaking you."

"I'd rather do the breaking in person," Bruce snarls. He is Bruce but he is using his batman voice. Alfred is probably despairing.

In the back of Lex's mind, the bell tolls.

For whom, he thinks. For whom?

"You look just like your father," his mother says.

_Did you kill your father, Lex?_

"I'm trying my best to keep my father's legacy going," Lex mumbles.

_Good boy, junior. Good boy._

**Author's Note:**

> i really want to write more lex/bruce im beginning to think i have a legitimate problem
> 
>  
> 
> [ tumblr](http://paracosmss.tumblr.com/)


End file.
